Nameless
by Kaminiko
Summary: For one person, a night of a blood moon brings realizations.


Warnings: Yaoi yaoi yaoi, and kinda lemon/limey/citrusy. Angst too.   


**Nameless**   
  
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_I love you, I'll kill you... but I'll love you forever  
    - Enigma
_   
  
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The room was black but for the faint red glow from a blood moon. The hazy orb hung high in the sky, washing the world in its ruby sea. The curtains of the window were slightly parted, the window itself slightly open, so that a thin strip of light cut across the room, and a faint breeze wove its way inside. A figure sat on the edge of a small bed in the center of the room, looking down towards the floor, shoulder's sagging as if bearing an impossible weight. It was hard to tell in the dim light what colour the person's hair was, but it was light, short, and shaggy, two long strips on either side of its face. 

The figure was nude from the waist up, revealing a slender and obviously masculine form. Around his slim waist, bedsheets were bunched, though they only covered his lower half to midthigh. On his toned stomach, a tattoo or symbol of some sort swirled around his navel in a widening spiral. Lightly muscled calves led to thick manacles, specially made to absorb the users chakra, binding his ankles. Chains led from the manacles to the head of the bed, designed to keep the man from leaving the room, but giving him enough leeway to walk around. 

He was a captive in this dark place. 

Further inspection of the man's face revealed the figure to be young, barely a teenager, large exotic eyes graced his elfin features, twin trios of lines marked either side of his face, a curious birthmark, or perhaps another tattoo. The teen's shoulders lifted in a silent sigh, a faint breath upon the air, as he turned his face to the window, gazing at the burning moon. 

It was lonely in this room. 

The teen thought that this night, the moon was beautiful, a perfect reflection of his heart. Pulsing red, and alone in the night, cradled in a shell of darkness. A slight smile crossed the pretty lips, as he thought of his analogy. He wondered what the others would say if they knew what he was thinking. They'd chide him for being so unlike himself, and he'd grin and laugh, telling them he was only joking, forever a clown... 

But that was another time, and another place, and those thoughts were long ago. He told himself to stop dreaming an impossible dream, to stop delving into a fantasy. 

He told himself that often. 

He wondered how he'd try to finish it tonight. Perhaps he'd break the glass of the window and take one of the gleaming shards to his wrist or to his throat. Maybe he'd take the heavy chains and wrap them around his neck, pulling hard enough to induce strangulation. Or, he could place his long fingers to his chest, right above his heart, and see how far they'd go as he pressed harder. 

He sighed, raking his hand through his hair. He'd probably do none of these, as they were never truly effective. He'd eventually pass out from blood or air loss, at which point his gift would kick in. 

His gift, his curse. 

He'd wake up again, some time later to find his heart still beating, his wounds having healed over. More often than not, that man would be there, cradling his form against his chest. The man found it terribly amusing that the boy would go through such great lengths just to rid himself of his master. Amusing, arousing. Often stripping the boy while he was still weak to pound into him senselessly, so hard. 

The teen thought of the man then. Looking so much like another that he knew himself to have loved. While he admitted this to himself readily now, during the times of his true youth, he thought it was hatred that heated his cheeks and made him think of the other so often. He'd been a childish fool then, full of petty angers and pathetic dreams. If only he had admitted to himself then how he'd felt, maybe he could have had some sort of happiness before... 

Before he had been killed. 

Before his soul had been cut out of his body and dragged into the furthest reaches of this place he knew to be hell. The thoughts came to him then, of a time when the three of them would smile and laugh and argue. Of that smirk and the way he said his name, 

"Naruto." 

Cutting straight to his core. 

The teen smiled bitterly, his head hanging to watch the play of light on the floor, dancing like fireflies in the dark. That name didn't really belong to him anymore. 

Soon that man would come back. He'd probably be surprised to find that, for once, his belonging hadn't attempted to remove himself from that thing called life. In some ways they were the same. Both looking for someone to kill them. The man, his younger brother, the only person in the world who could. And the teen? Himself. If he were lucky enough than the man would grow tired of him and cut him open for what he really wanted, inside. If he were blessed, than the one he loved would do it. Remove him from the pain filled world. It couldn't be better than if the one you loved were to take your life, the ultimate gift. 

There. Another thing they had in common. 

Perhaps this was why the man had kept him alive, because of these similarities. Although it was the man who had caused these feelings inside of him, perhaps so he wouldn't be alone in his self-hatred. The teen cocked his head to the side, thinking. Nameless. That's what they both were. One's whose names you did not utter for fear of ill will. They were the hated ones, forcefully forgotten so as not to bring pain. 

Angrily he kicked at the lights on the floor. Stupid. All of it. He laughed harshly. Hadn't he told himself a thousand times that he would not think of these things? Time and time again hadn't he reminded himself not to sink into these swirling thoughts? 

"Amused?" Naruto paused. He didn't have to turn to know that the man had returned. 

"Itachi," he said softly in return, turning once more to gaze at the moon, "Okaeri." 

A rustle of cloth sounded and he could visualize the other man undressing, his dark cloak falling to the floor, followed by his shirt, his pants, his undergarments. He'd be walking towards the bed then, his feet making no sound against the floor. Naruto could feel the bed dip and creak with Itachi's weight. 

With no words, Itachi was on him, pulling him back into his embrace, kissing at places he could reach. Naruto closed his eyes, not bothering to struggle away, and not assisting either. His hands were at his sides, fingers lax as Itachi's hands traveled the length of his body, disappearing under the sheets. Naruto's lips parted as Itachi found him there, and he hissed as the dark-haired man stroked him fiercely. 

This was how it always began, no words, just immediate action. Soon Naruto would be on his back, folded over as he accepted from the older man. Both sweating and grunting as the bed trembled violently. Naruto gazed at the ceiling his eyes falling shut of their own volition as Itachi pushed and pushed and pushed. Somewhere in the haze of his mind, he thought of what they looked like as they traveled through barren lands, three of them clad in dark robes, their faces hidden by strips of white. Ghosts, the hidden ones, trapped between two planes, the living and the dead. Faceless spirits with no past and no future. 

They came at the same time, they always had. That romantic dribble about the union of true love. It always left him breathless. Their deeply intertwined beings, wrapped around each other as they panted their releases. Itachi curved Naruto to his chest, holding him tightly as he dropped into sleep. Naruto often wondered if the man knew how easy it would be to kill him then. So trustful to sleep in his presence. He wouldn't though, and he supposed that was why Itachi was so trustful. In some strange way the blonde loved him far too much. 

And wasn't that the strangest part of all? He had heard somewhere that people who were kidnapped often developed strange dependencies on those that stole them away. That at times, these feelings turned into a warped sense of love and devotion, stopping the captive from trying to escape. Was that where he was now? Captured with no desire to escape? 

He squeezed his eyes shut against the promise of tears, and willed himself not to think about it. To stop being a fool and to stop thinking about the things that threatened to break his mind. Shakily, he wrapped his arms around the broad back and buried his face against the warm chest. He concentrated on the steady heartbeat beneath his ears and allowed himself to be lulled. It was a terrible place he was in, trapped in so many ways... 

When all he wanted to do was sleep. 

Insomnia gripped him instead, and he found himself unable to let go, to give into the faceless darkness. He wondered what they'd say if they saw him now. What kind of horrors and disgusts would cross their faces as they realized what he'd done. What kind of monster he'd become. For what could be worse than falling for someone hated by everyone. Someone whose sins could fill an ocean. 

He was dancing with the devil. 

He wondered what Sasuke would say. How much he'd hate him when he knew the truth. Maybe that was his true fear. The disappointment and hatred in the eyes of those above him. Being looked down upon for his weakness. 

"No." A pained whisper in the dark, and suddenly there was a hand soothing through his hair, softly stroking. 

"Shhh," came the voice of the one he hated, "you're thinking too much." Naruto could have cried, "You're mine now," came the voice of the one he loved, "and I will never let you leave me." 

Somehow, his thoughts were quieted in the hazy night, and he allowed himself to rest, the faint glow of red eyes leading him to darkness.

  


**AN:** Wah! So I did it, I finally wrote an ItaNaru fic... Oi. I'm not sure if its done well, but I really, really wanted to do this pairing, so, that was it. 


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